


Admonitions To A Special Person

by HachiPachi, wildandflowering



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Feels, Long, Long and thirsty, M/M, Sometimes cute, Still within Sakura, lots of tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:36:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5698624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HachiPachi/pseuds/HachiPachi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildandflowering/pseuds/wildandflowering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Special person,<br/>if I were you I'd pay no attention to admonitions from me,<br/>made somewhat out of your words and somewhat out of mine.<br/>A collaboration.<br/>I do not believe a word I have said,<br/>except some."<br/>-Anne Sexton</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Training Wheels

Violin case gripped firmly in his dominant hand as he trudged down the dim hallway, Mamiya Seiren hoisted a cardboard box containing most of his earthly possessions. Reaching his destination, the young man clumsily attempted to jostle the doorknob open with an elbow. Cringing at the amount of sound he had made, Mamiya tried a new tactic. He pressed the box firmly against the wall with his body weight, freeing a hand to open the door. This solution, however, caused him to lose balance and tumble awkwardly into the threshold. Mamiya twisted to catch the box as it fell into the room behind him, lifting the precious instrument delicately into the air out of harms way.  
  
Watching this display as his new partner burst into the quiet of his room, Ariga noted to himself that this was not the most eloquent of first impressions. Mamiya's concern for the violin’s safety was the only indication of any sense of grace.  
  
Then again, it wasn’t the _first_ impression. Not really. So Ariga was willing to let it slide this time. Also giving him a pass since the two of them had already become familiar with their respective Messiah, only to have things switched up yet again not long after. For Mamiya to be off-balance, so to speak, was understandable. However, Ariga couldn’t quite ignore the part of him that inwardly yelled about how foolish it was for the other man to not be able to adapt to a new situation. Especially one that was such a big deal.  
  
But one thing at a time.  
  
Pushing himself off of the bed, he approached Mamiya and held out his hands for the box or violin case. “Ask for help next time, if you need it.”  
  
Frozen, Mamiya was the perfect portrait of a deer caught in headlights. Ducking his head, Mamiya reminded himself there was no reason to be surprised to find Ariga in his own room. Glancing between parcels almost calculatingly, he offered the box to Ariga’s extended hands with a small polite smile. “Sorry… ah, thank you… I was lost in thought. Today is such a nice day, I expected everyone would want to spend their free time outside.”  
  
Once the box was offered, Ariga took it and deposited it on the empty bed before glancing back to Mamiya to make sure he had things under control now. But the way the cadet stood there, violin case gripped with both hands in front of himself making no signs to move, caused Ariga to exhale before he returned to lie down on his own bed.  
  
“That bed doesn’t bite you know. At least, Shirasaki never complained about it.”  
  
Shirasaki Mamoru. Earlier in the day Ariga had watched him pack up his few belongings and put them all in a box, not unlike Mamiya’s. Shirasaki had tried to keep his excitement in check, but the way his face split into a smile at the thought of partnering up with his old friend Yuuri (or so Ariga assumed) betrayed his real feelings. Ariga couldn’t blame him. Shirasaki had someone and something to look forward to. The two of them would probably take advantage of the day to get reacquainted, even if there wasn’t much to fill each other in on.  
  
Ariga had no plans to interrupt that. “Later, maybe.”  
  
“Right…” Similar thoughts of the other Messiah pair were plaguing Mamiya’s mind. At the mention of Shirasaki the clean floor suddenly became interesting, he stared unseeingly at it as he walked over to place his violin on the bed and opened the box.  
  
It was no secret to anyone that Yuuri Kaito never wanted Mamiya as a partner. Even after being saved in the midst of an unexpected armed conflict during a hacking assignment, Yuuri’s gratitude toward Mamiya didn’t last long. The other boy had stared icily at Mamiya as he packed his things this morning, silently pressuring him to pack faster. Mamiya knew he wasn’t a replacement for Shirasaki even if he was becoming more useful in combat. He wondered if Ariga would have preferred to remain paired with Shirasaki since the two of them didn’t seem to have nearly as many mishaps as he and Yuuri managed to create while teamed up. However, there was nothing to be done for it. He had to become someone his new Messiah could rely on, but he already felt like they were beginning on the wrong foot.  
  
Mamiya unpacked as casually as he could, beginning with toiletries haphazardly tossed into the top his box. In the end he had given up being orderly for the sake of escaping the toxic presence that Yuuri could be. He took his time to find places for his belongings in the bathroom simply to avoid the awkward atmosphere.  
  
Ariga didn’t know Mamiya all that well, but from what he had witnessed here and there, he knew his new Messiah was at least a little timid (okay, maybe more than a little). The way recent events transpired, it looked like Mamiya had begun to grow into himself. Until now.  
  
It was like he had regressed. Kind of disappointing, really. Or just sad.  
  
But Ariga gave him space, though as he watched the other man unpack he took notice - just out of curiosity and an inclination to learn - of the neatly folded clothes underneath a top layer that appeared hastily thrown in and the man’s desire to get out of Ariga’s presence as much as possible.  
  
After finding space in a drawer for his spare clothes and uniform, Mamiya placed a few books on his side of the shared nightstand with care as if adding a personal touch to the room. Reminiscent of the way a person might place a beloved photograph. Ariga grabbed his own book to flip through so as to appear a little less intimidating.  
  
Without looking up from the pages, he asked, “Read anything good, lately?” Ariga had already read the titles on the spines within view, but he wanted Mamiya’s opinion.  
  
Mamiya sat on the edge of his bed, eyes lighting up a little. “Well, I was just reading about Léon Theremin,” he offered. The pronunciation of the foreign name was precise, either practiced specifically or revealing a familiarity with foreign words. “He was the one who created the Buran eavesdropping system. It detects sound vibrations through glass windows! A lot of his devices take advantage of sound like that. He was truly brilliant! A shame he was Russian really...” Shifting the attention and topic to books seems to have been an effective tactic. Mamiya’s quiet voice sounded uncharacteristically excited. He tucked his lower lip into his mouth, biting it thoughtfully before asking, “So what book are you reading?” His interest seemed genuine and his expression was hopeful.  
  
Quite frankly, this had been about the most excitement Ariga had seen out of the other man since...well, probably ever. And over something most people wouldn’t even bat an eye at, but everyone had their weird hobbies and interests, Ariga guessed. Still, there was something...special about seeing Mamiya actually happy, even for a second. Happy and innocent, what with the way he chewed on his lip like a kid, almost. If Ariga didn’t know any better, he’d almost never consider his new Messiah as a threat at all.  
  
A smile tried to tug at the corners of his mouth, but Ariga bit down on the inside of his cheek and instead snorted at the jab against the Russians. “Well, the Russians have to be somewhat brilliant if they can manage life in a freezer and keep their country running despite being as big as it is.”  
  
A quiet huff that could have been laughter came from the other bed. “True.” Bobbing his head in a nod caused Mamiya’s hair to fall over the left side of his face hiding his expression momentarily as he tugged the offending piece back into position to cover his ear.  
  
As for his own reading material, however, Ariga fell silent, almost apprehensive as to how he should answer. But really honesty is the best policy, or so they always said. Besides, Mamiya would undoubtedly find out the truth soon enough now that they were partnered up. So Ariga answered plainly, “Poetry.”  
  
Mamiya’s hand slowly slid down his hair, trailing down his face and back into his lap as if he’d suddenly forgotten that the limb belonged to him. He stared. From Ariga’s tone, there was no question he was being sincere. Leaning slightly forward as if about to break the silence, he paused, eyes flicking to the floor, before quickly darting back up in search of Ariga’s expression. Mamiya’s own expression became determined. “May I borrow it? …When you are done, I mean?” He waited for a response without looking away this time.  
  
...Ah.  
  
It was a tiny thing, just that quick flick of his eye, but Ariga saw it and continued to watch as Mamiya kept his head up. Just a tiny thing, but a good thing, another glimpse of backbone and strength. Ariga held his gaze for a moment. Then, returning his eyes back to his book, he quickly dog-eared the current page and closed it, immediately holding it out to the other man. “Anne Sexton.” A curt explanation, but one Ariga felt was deserved. “She’s pretty depressing, actually, from what I’ve read.” Did Mamiya have the opinion that poetry was lighthearted or reserved for lovers or other fantastical nonsense? Ariga had no idea, so did he issue a warning? An opinion of his own?  
  
Perhaps it was both.  
  
Rising slightly from the edge of his bed, Mamiya used both hands to gently lift the offered book from Ariga’s fingers before settling back down where he had been. The warning didn’t appear to faze him in the slightest. He also didn’t question Ariga’s choice to hand it over before finishing, simply accepted the gesture. Gaze falling to the book now in his lap, he brushed a hand across the surface of the cover as if slowly brushing invisible dust from the title as he scanned it. Or maybe, the gesture indicated he was treating it as something of value...  
  
Judging from where Ariga had marked his place, this poetry being ‘depressing’ had no effect on his interest in it and Mamiya had every intention to learn about his new Messiah. This was a good sign. Ariga wasn’t pushing him away; if anything it felt like he was giving Mamiya a chance. Trusting him with this detail was meaningful, however small it may seem to Ariga himself. What people read is often considered personal. This thought made him smile to himself as he touched the edge of the cover ready to flip it open right then. However, the hand lingered there for the moment without opening it. Fingers tapped out a short pattern on the edge, illustrating wheels turning in his mind. Mamiya wanted to read it unrushed. He looked back up at Ariga and asked suddenly, “Have you eaten yet?”  
  
Hesitant, but curious. That was one way Ariga might describe Mamiya, though it was certainly a work in progress. Not a bad thing, though, all things considered. Really, just watching the other man silently debate with himself was kind of a nice change of pace. Shirasaki hadn’t been loud while they shared a room, but he was definitely more talkative, more open. Smart, of course, but like a book whose pages were on display for all the world to read. Ariga hadn’t learned everything about Shirasaki during their short time together, but he felt like he had gotten a good enough idea of the other man’s personality and was able to judge what he would do in any number of situations.  
  
Mamiya, on the other hand, was harder to read, more guarded. Interesting in a wholly different way from Shirasaki. Ariga particularly liked how quiet he was, too. It gave him more time to just exist. Silences can be awkward (and he was sure the two of them would experience such times at first), but also comforting. They’ll need work, definitely, but maybe this arrangement wasn’t all bad.  
  
Mamiya’s voice had a soft quality to it, pleasing to listen to, so when he did speak up, Ariga almost didn’t respond. Only a couple seconds passed by, though, before he realized that there had been a question. And it was directed at him. “Not since this morning.” A meager breakfast, but sufficient enough.  
  
It was already well past 2:00pm and the cafeteria didn’t open again until 4:30pm for dinner. Although he didn’t want to admit it out loud Mamiya was sort of glad that the timing worked out this way. This gave him the excuse he needed to suggest they go eat out somewhere. Today was sort of a special day to him even though it could also be seen as just another order or even as an inconvenience (depending who you asked). Mamiya wanted to remember it for more than his embarrassing entrance into his new room. His new partnership. Now that he thought about it, it was possible that Ariga had even been waiting for him and that’s why he hadn’t gone out to take advantage of his free time. Or maybe he was just wrapped up in his book. At the thought, Mamiya’s eyes fell back down to the cover and his thumb stroked the spine absent mindedly for a moment; either way, the book’s presence gave him the courage he needed simply because it was Ariga’s.  
  
“Why don’t we go find something nice to eat? We’ve had this whole day off.” Mamiya peered up shyly through his hair that seemed determined to fall into his face at this angle. “Let’s make the best of what’s left of it.”  
  
Mamiya waited, holding his breath.  
  
Days off were pretty rare in Sakura - Ariga couldn’t deny that much. So even though he saw nothing wrong with spending his time off by doing the minimum requirements, he realized that actually getting out and seeing the light of day wouldn’t hurt either. Besides, it would be good for the two of them to observe each other in a different environment, to learn how they react to various stimuli. They could keep that in mind the next time they have a mission, or even just a training exercise. They could improve on that.  
  
Letting out an exaggerated sigh, Ariga swung his legs off his bed and slowly stood up. “Does ‘the best’ include you paying?”  
  
...Okay, so maybe he could indulge himself in some straight-faced teasing, too. For science, of course.  
  
They were really going? “S-sure! I don’t mind. My treat then! ...Just this once.” Mamiya smiled as he also stood, placed the book on his own stack, and swiped his wallet from the drawer. Mamiya was ready to leave in an instant, looking toward Ariga to confirm he was also ready to go. As an afterthought he added, “I think this means I get to choose where we eat?”  
  
...Ah. Mamiya was really excited about this outing. That positivity was almost infectious. Almost. “Eager as a puppy.” A part of him wondered if he should get a leash, but that might have been pushing things a little too far. Normally gentle eyes narrowed in his direction. “Relax, it was a joke.” Apparently not a good one, but an effort was made. “You can still choose the place, but I’ve got my half covered.” And with that, he grabbed his own wallet from his own drawer. Mamiya didn’t look relaxed at all - if anything he looked disappointed now.  
  
Turning away, Mamiya made his way out the door, leaving Ariga to worry about locking it. Soft spoken though he was, he did have his limits and he’d rather not have another Messiah who thought it was okay to ignore his feelings. Suddenly he wondered if going out to eat today was a bad decision. There had been no reason to make fun of him like that. He had been happy at the idea of paying since the day was important to him and it felt like something friends would do without worry anyway. The type of thing where one pays this time the other pays the next time and it’s never really counted.  
  
Mamiya chastised himself for assuming things could go so well so quickly. He was also upset now and it’s not like it was a date or something. He wasn’t about to insist over something so stupid; it wouldn’t have the same meaning. Lost in thought, he strode with purpose down the hall.  
  
Considering he was the last one out of the room, locking up was expected and Ariga did it without a thought, pocketing his key as he turned to follow his Messiah.  
Who was about to flatten his face onto a door.  
  
“Mamiya,” Ariga cried out, raising his voice just enough to be heard from his distance, but not loud enough to make it seem like he was yelling. Furrowing his brow, he watched and hoped his warning came in time.  
  
Only centimeters from the door, the boy instantly halted at the sound of Ariga’s voice. But clearly something had happened within the last minute. Mamiya wasn’t scatterbrained from what he could tell, and so the apparent lack of awareness sent off warning bells in Ariga’s head. But why? Had he really been that excited to treat Ariga all along? Even so, he should know not to take a joke, no matter how badly delivered, to heart like this.  
  
Running from the problem wouldn’t help, either.  
  
The boy huffed a sigh, he was still standing close enough to the door to rest his forehead on it if he wanted but he was trying not to let his embarrassment show more than it already had. He had messed up again already. Mamiya knew he was overthinking this. It probably wasn’t Ariga’s intention to make him feel badly about being excited by comparing him to a puppy. This didn’t mean the entire outing was going to go poorly.  
  
Showing emotion openly felt a little taboo among Sakura members but they were Messiah now and that statement was probably just good-natured teasing rather than a sugar coated rebuke. Mamiya just didn’t know how to read his new partner at all and he didn’t seem the type to tease like a normal person. Ariga had a stoic no-nonsense air about him a lot of the time. He needed to calm down and pay attention, find some way to redeem himself. There was a quick thumping of footsteps on the other side of the door and Mamiya instinctively jumped out of the way just as the offending door was thrown open from the other side.  
  
“No I swear, Kaito, she kept staring because she couldn’t tell if you were a male or a female.”  
  
“How can you just assume that? I’m certain she thought I was attractive.”  
  
“Check your eyes, she was clearly confused.”  
  
“Mamoru…. are you saying you don’t find me attractive?!” Yuuri was acting mockingly offended, but he looked happier than Mamiya had ever seen him.  
  
“H-hey! You can’t ask me something like that! You’re changing the subject.” Shirasaki also could hardly hide his grin at their exchange, the two of them really seemed close. It was as if they had never been separated at all.  
  
Mamiya understood why the two were a team, but he couldn’t help but feel a little used and thrown away like some unnecessary tool by the way the Church had partnered the four of them originally. Yuuri really had done nothing good for his self esteem treating him the way he did. And though he didn’t even _want_ to be Yuuri’s Messiah… He still couldn’t look at them getting along so well without feeling… disheartened to say the least.  
  
It had just been a few seconds of lighthearted conversation.  
  
So normal, so innocent, as if they all weren’t part of a secret organization. As if they all weren’t trained to kill, or worse. As if they hadn’t just stalled a terrorist plot a couple days prior.  
  
And yet so wrapped up were Shirasaki and Yuuri in their own little sunshine world that they didn’t even stop to utter a simple greeting to the two who had been by their sides before. Ariga leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he silently let the two pass. At least when he looked up, he noticed just in time that Shirasaki had the decency to at least smile in his direction before carrying on with whatever nonsense he and Yuuri were going on about. Acknowledgement. It was enough for Ariga. They had to move on, after all. Messiah couldn’t be friends with anyone but their own partners.  
  
Kind of hard to fulfill when you’ve laid down the foundation for a relationship with someone else first.  
  
Glancing back at Mamiya, Ariga could clearly see the hurt enveloping him. If he were a kinder man, he’d offer words of comfort and encouragement, but even thinking such things felt dishonest. Things wouldn’t be ‘okay’ just because someone said they would. People took work. Partnerships took work. And yet, while Ariga knew he didn’t need pity, Mamiya could be different. A more sensitive soul, desiring some nudge in the right direction.  
  
He was not the right person for this job.  
  
“Once you’re done with training wheels, you generally forget all about them, don’t you?”  
  
...He was definitely not the right person for this job.  
  
But Messiah were Messiah and there was nothing to be done about the past. “Come on. All the good places will close if we stand here all day.”  
  
Mamiya wasn’t certain how to respond to that, but somehow he felt he didn’t need to. It was… not exactly a comforting statement… okay it was honestly just plain terrible. However Mamiya felt like maybe Ariga was trying and that fact was really all that mattered. So he tucked away his previous thoughts, and focused on new ones. A little smile played across his lips as he asked… “Do you mind if we get crepes after?” and held the offensive door open for his stoic Messiah. “Otherwise I don’t have a preference.”  
  
Ariga was unsure if that desire for sweet things was an actual want or some need for comfort food. Well. Either way, it didn’t sound like a bad plan, so he really couldn’t complain. Besides, Mamiya had made an effort to move on, which Ariga could appreciate. He may have been sensitive, but that backbone was still there, peeking out from time to time. That was good.  
  
Pushing himself from the wall, Ariga bowed his head for a moment as he passed through the doorway. “That’s fine.” He waited for Mamiya to follow. “How offended would you be to grabbing ramen from a street vendor?” Because, honestly, that was about as far from an ideal lunch out as he could imagine. Probably. But those vendors always seemed to do well, which meant they had to be good to some extent. Ariga just liked the simplicity of it all. Food, hot and fast, and with basically no expectations from his end. Well, except for payment.  
  
“Actually that sounds perfect; it’ll balance out the cold. I always liked those stands anyway.” This also meant they could sit side by side and avoid the awkwardness that sometimes occurs when sitting across the table from someone you don’t know well enough to know what to say to. Though he certainly wasn’t going to let Ariga know that simplicity was relieving if he could help it.


	2. Ramen and Chill

Luckily, the vendor wasn’t too far away, nor too crowded (probably because it wasn’t the normal rush hour). The two of them were able to get their orders quickly. They were also lucky in that there were a couple of tables set to the side, so Ariga thought nothing of it as he claimed one. And when Mamiya joined, he dug in, suddenly aware of how hungry he actually was. There was nothing dainty about the way he ate (though Ariga was civilized enough to use a napkin whenever juice happened to hit his chin. Or cheek. And did a noodle really manage to get his nose?), but he wasn’t a complete mess, either. Just a hungry guy.  
  
The Church cafeteria wasn’t bad, compared to some meals Ariga had had the misfortune of eating, and even the adjoining restaurant was decent considering how hole-in-the-wall it appeared, but they couldn’t top this, in his opinion. Perhaps it was because vendors were completely dissociated with the Church and Sakura that no reminders of what his life had become could overshadow the enjoyment. Yes, he would still have to go back at the end of the day, but for now, it was enough. Peaceful.  
  
Poor Mamiya who had been expecting to sit beside Ariga, found himself across a table anyway. It was exactly as difficult for him as he would have expected. He was trying not to stare but… had he ever even seen Ariga eat before? He didn’t think so… the guy looked so normal here. No one walking by them on the street just then could have even begun to guess their profession. Comfortable and relaxed as if there was no place he’d rather be right then. Maybe there wasn’t. At least Ariga wasn’t looking back at him. Otherwise he might have noticed Mamiya had been staring ever since that noodle flicked his Messiah’s nose. Sure… it could happen to anyone… but Ariga??  
  
About halfway through his bowl, Ariga glanced up. “Good?”  
  
“Ah! Un…” Mamiya offered his short response, hoping his voice didn’t waver. He was slightly embarrassed because he wasn’t sure if he had just been caught staring. Honestly he was only a fourth of the way through his ramen because he hadn’t been paying much attention to it. Definitely not the flavor either. “Yours?”  
  
Ariga gave a short nod and they continued in silence. Mamiya relaxed as he realized Ariga didn’t intend to exchange empty social pleasantries or to hassle him for how much eye contact he did or didn’t make.  
  
The time almost easily slipped by, considering their rocky start earlier. And now Mamiya found himself walking by Ariga’s side in the direction of the Church struggling to find the neatest way to finish the crepe he had been craving, turning his head this way and that. Just in case plenty of napkins were stuffed in a pocket. Going for the ice cream is always a dangerous choice. Mamiya turned his face away from Ariga for a moment hiding a light laugh at the thought of ice cream being “dangerous”. Ariga’s face looked much more dangerous than melty ice cream any day.  
  
Mamiya needed to compose himself. What on earth made him think this was a good idea? How was he going to finish this thing? He couldn’t throw it away… What a waste that would be. The whole problem was both amusing and ridiculous. Getting caught staring would be one thing but snickering over nothing would be worse. “I would say my eyes were bigger than my stomach, but there weren’t exactly size options.”  
  
Up until this point, it seemed that Mamiya had been doing well keeping up with Ariga’s longer strides, as well as eating at the same time, but out of the corner of his eye, Ariga had noticed the other man slowly start to fall back. And then with that confession…  
  
Ariga stopped and faced him, assessing the situation. Clearly Mamiya couldn’t eat the whole thing (and really, if he couldn’t eat the whole thing then he shouldn’t have gotten it in the first place, but it’s too late for that), so there were two options. He could just throw it away, and even though Ariga wasn’t a huge fan of crepes, the thought of wasting food was just a terrible one. Starving children in China, and all that. Hell, there were starving children in this very city.  
  
The second option was one he wasn’t as fond of, but nonetheless wouldn’t end up being a waste. Even so, it could come off as awkward. Ariga frowned and looked away for a moment, then gathered up his wits. “You’re not sick, are you?”  
  
“Huh? No?”  
  
“Good. Then…” He held out his hand expectantly. Because if his Messiah couldn’t finish it, then it would fall on his shoulders. Or something.  
  
Gratefully Mamiya handed the cold treat over. He didn’t want to say anything to make Ariga feel awkward but he certainly was glad… and this made up twice over for the stupid jokes gone wrong today. It was an odd thing to be pleased over, but it made him feel a little warmer inside as they continued walking and Ariga dutifully finished the dessert. He took a picture in his memory because he didn’t expect to see this again anytime soon. This would be how he would remember day one, everything else just melted into the background. The rest wasn’t that important.

  


* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  


One day down with a new roommate (and Messiah). However, it didn’t really feel all that weird, or as weird as it probably should have felt for Ariga. Perhaps being able to stay in his own room helped alleviate the awkwardness of adapting to a new routine. All that was different was who slept in the second bed. Otherwise, Ariga excused himself for his nightly shower and didn’t think much of it.  
  
Having time to himself, however, proved relaxing, and welcome. Because he took longer in the shower than he usually did, actually giving himself time to exist and just enjoy the way the water beat down on the bare skin of his back. So maybe his schedule and equilibrium weren’t completely unaffected.  
  
As Ariga took his time in the shower Mamiya took the opportunity to change into pajamas and crack open the book of poetry. This style of writing wasn’t like anything he was familiar with so he took his time reading. After each poem he would pause to think about what he’d read before continuing to the next.  
  
Despite his normal and best efforts to towel dry it, by the time Ariga walked back into the room his hair was still a little damp. Definitely much fluffier than it ever was during the day. Mamiya was laying back on a pillow against the headboard of his bed almost completely absorbed. However at the sound of the door he naturally glanced up before returning to finish the line he was on. He stopped. Gaze immediately flicking back up to comprehend what was wrong with this picture.  
  
The small tell-tale freckles on the man’s face assured that this was in fact Ariga… though he looked different. Really, he looked younger this way- closer to his actual age, though he never talked about it. As far as Ariga was concerned age didn’t matter, only the effort he put into his work, so he never thought to compare it to anything else. He didn’t even think his more casual appearance this late at night would be strange, so when he closed the door behind him, he didn’t notice Mamiya’s double-take.  
  
Since Ariga seemed preoccupied by his own thoughts, Mamiya quietly continued to observe him a little longer. The ruffled hair, though still neatly parted, covered a good bit of his forehead. It framed and rounded his face… the overall effect softening his features made him seem less intimidating even though he was clearly the same person who had walked into the bathroom earlier. But… it wasn’t just that. He looked better this way. Casual. As if maybe his guard was lowered. Somehow Mamiya couldn’t help but see him a little differently. If he were a girl, he might even have described the man walking into the room now as mysteriously alluring with his damp hair and skin. The crisp scent of soap wafting into the room after him. The perfect soldier taking a moment to simply be human. Who are you Ariga? What else do you hide in plain sight? Mamiya smiled lightly and continued to peruse the borrowed book, digging for clues.  
  
Without interruption, Ariga moved straight to his bed, sitting on the edge to tentatively glance up at Mamiya. When he saw the other man invested in the book, Ariga let his eyes linger on his face for a few moments. Idly wondering what was going through his head. Or what had brought him to this place to begin with. How the hell had they gotten stuck together like this?  
  
Why had Mamiya of all the people in the world found refuge in this place, this den of men with unclean hands, when his hands should only curl around wood and strings instead of the cold metal of a weapon? Why had he ended up in the same group of cadets as Ariga, completely unaware of the fact that his almost-killer was right there?  
  
Furthermore, why were they now sharing the same room?  
  
Fate sure had a bad sense of humor.  
  
Shaking his head, Ariga tried to clear his mind of some of its runaway thoughts before slipping under the covers. Rolling onto his side, facing Mamiya, he let his eyes fall closed. He would have to worry about all of this some other day.  
  
Mamiya listened as his new roommate settled himself into bed. He continued reading late into the night, taking note as Ariga’s breathing deepened into slumber. Eyes burning he knew he should turn the lights off soon but… just one more poem. Just one. That thought was the last he remembered before sleep carried him away, book held close to his chest.  
  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  


It was the sunlight that woke Ariga the next morning.  
  
Blinking away intrusive grogginess, his eyes slowly focused on the sight in front of him. Right. The other bed. Bathed in sunlight…  
  
Wait a second, there were no windows in his room. What…?  
  
Pushing himself up, Ariga focused harder, forcing himself awake to figure out just what in the world was going on before it finally dawned on him that the ‘sun’ was just the lamp and Mamiya had managed to pass out while reading. Really, if they were anyone else and anywhere else, the sight would be strangely endearing. But they were in Sakura and this was just careless.  
  
A sigh escaped his lips and he let his eyes fall closed for a long moment. This was going to be a long, long partnership.  
  
“Mamiya.” His voice was still thick with sleep, so he cleared his throat.  
  
“Nnn…?” Even in slumber Mamiya’s sense of hearing was beyond comprehension and the response time had been rather quick. Though it was unclear if he was actually becoming alert or responding like some could without waking. “What?” He slowly intoned.  
  
Huh. Ariga hadn’t even had to poke him or raise his voice. “Are you awake?” While waiting for an answer (and hopefully a conscious one), he looked to his phone to find out what time it was.  
  
4:47.  
  
...Dammit.  
  
“Mmmm.... am now....” Mamiya stretched his legs and his arms over his head at the same time giving the impression of a cat waking from a nap. Rubbing his eyes open he squinted into the light of the room. “What time is it? Mmff… Are you okay?” He rolled onto his side to push himself up.  
  
Ariga swung his legs over the side of the bed and shoved a hand through his hair. “It’s too early. And no.” He usually woke up around fifteen minutes from now, but he was already awake this time and he knew that if he tried to capture those fifteen minutes, he’d just oversleep and then where would he be? “You’re depriving me of sleep.”  
  
“...What?” It was too early to understand this gibberish. He sat up the rest of the way, more alert now. He had no idea what he could have done. “...Was I snoring?” he asked worriedly as he watched Ariga’s sleep tossed hair slowly move itself back into its previous position. If Ariga weren’t Ariga and instead some kid, Mamiya would probably have suspected he’d just had a nightmare.  
  
_Was he snoring_ , he asked.  
  
...Then again, if Ariga thought on it, he couldn’t remember if he had heard snoring (he didn’t think so), but he knew for sure that wasn’t what had woken him. So he ruffled his own hair a little bit not quite caring that it had been fixed momentarily, it was back to being a disheveled mess, then used that same hand to point to the offending reason.  
  
The lamp was still lit.  
  
“Ah… Sorry.” Rooming with Yuuri, Mamiya had gotten accustomed to falling asleep with some sort of light in the room so it been easy to forget in the end. Yuuri spent late nights up on his laptop and Mamiya just left the lights on so the guy wouldn’t hurt his eyes. What a bad habit he had developed… Now Ariga probably thought he was rude for not considering his roommate… He definitely recalled considering it. Mamiya would have to take mental note of this preference. He sighed. “I’ll turn it out next time.”  
  
“Try to.” The more he woke up, the more he was able to make sense of the situation. “Staying up late is fine, but sleep when you’re tired. Don’t force yourself if you can help it.” So maybe he wasn’t the most sociable or nicest person in the morning (or ever), but he couldn’t stand the thought of Mamiya falling victim to unsafe habits in this lifestyle.  
  
Now that Mamiya was awake he rolled out of bed. Was Ariga trying to be… nice? Or was his advice coincidentally less harsh than usual because he was tired. Huh. Food for thought.  
  
Mornings were preferable to Mamiya for shower time even though he wasn’t fond of waking up early. This way he could start his day fresh and ready. Pulling open a drawer he rooted around for a clean uniform among other things. He wondered if he should respond. It seemed like Ariga would often say things that could be taken in completely different ways depending on your point of view. Actually it would be a good way to evaluate people, by seeing what they assume you mean with ambiguous statements. However, Mamiya got the idea Ariga simply… Expected to be understood. As if logically there was only one thing he could mean if you were only paying proper attention to the context.  
  
He trundled his way to the bathroom. Though not a morning person, let it not be said that Mamiya couldn’t handle them. Once he was up... Well he was up and running. Closing the door to their bathroom behind him he pulled a towel off a rack over the toilet. He turned the shower on and left his pajamas neatly folded in the convenient basket. Water washed away the remnants of fading dreams that had been interrupted. Dreams painted by the words of a poet. They certainly weren’t sweet words, but the dreams weren’t really nightmarish in nature either. Just a little bizarre. He let the figments of his imagination fade as the warmth of the water drummed a soothing tune onto his back. A softer sound on his hair. An echo from the spray on the tiles around him. He stood on one foot, swirling the water on the floor with the other just to enjoy the feel and the added vibration of the smack of his toes to the wet surface. His left hand tapped on the tiled wall a little in 3/4s time, a simple waltz, before he even reached for the soap.  
  
Mamiya particularly liked showers. Especially when he could take his time, which it was hard to do when Yuuri also wanted to fit his shower in the morning without losing sleep. Ariga taking his at night was ideal. Something to be grateful for.  
  
Except Ariga was used to the idea of quick showers, using just enough time to clean oneself and get out. Perhaps it was just his upbringing. Living from such a young age among assassins who wasted no time on luxuries gave him the expectation that such a thing was normal. Even Shirasaki had taken quick showers (though not as quick as Ariga, but still quick enough), probably because he had been used to his former professional routine.  
  
So at first, he had no issues with Mamiya going in. After a few minutes, he still had no complaints and changed into his pants and shirt for the day.  
  
It was when those few minutes stretched into ten, then twenty, then beyond that Ariga grew impatient. But surely it wouldn’t be that much longer, right?  
  
However, there were other, more pressing matters to which he needed to attend. The joys of mornings. Ariga approached the door and raised a hand to knock, but hesitated. Surely just a couple more minutes…  
  
...But he’d had a couple more minutes.  
  
He decided against knocking and settled for raising his voice to be heard above the running water. “Mamiya. Two of us live here.”  
  
On the other side of the door Mamiya cringed. He hadn’t even gotten to the conditioner…. When he lived as a performer image was almost as important as skill. It’s not that he was vain, he simply had habits. Though he really was taking longer than necessary today. He scrubbed desperately at the remaining shampoo to at least get that out before turning the water off. He’d just make do and skip the conditioner. It’s not like he had anyone to impress.  
  
Stepping out, he snagged the towel and dried off as quickly as he could. Mamiya threw on his pants and gathered up the rest of his uniform, deciding it would be best to finish changing in the bedroom. Avoiding a war was key so he vacated the bathroom, though he really would have prefered to stay just then.  
  
After he had issued his warning, Ariga sat back down on his bed, trying to wait patiently. He folded his hands in his lap, then leaned back on his hands, then leaned forward again, his fingers twining among themselves. All of his toiletries were in the bathroom, so he couldn’t even do his hair in the meantime. He could only wait and with nothing else to distract him, that waiting game became rather tedious.  
  
But finally - finally! - the door opened and Ariga automatically rose to his feet, taking the first few steps toward the bathroom, passing Mamiya on the way. Mamiya and his very naked torso, which caused Ariga’s steps to falter just slightly. Which was stupid, it wasn’t as if he’d never seen another man without a shirt on. Of course he had!  
  
Stupid, stupid, he had to focus. Clenching his fists, he resumed his short walk and closed the bathroom door behind him. Okay. Success.  
  
(It smelled awfully different than what he was used to. It smelled an awful lot like Mamiya.)  
  
Now he just had to get all his business done, hair included, in a quick manner, to prove that it could be done.  
  
...Prove to whom? Himself? Or Mamiya?  
  
In the other room Mamiya donned his uniform, flipping the collar of his jacket up into it’s proper position and fastening the belts. Once that was complete he began to towel his sopping wet hair. It didn’t really matter if a little water got on his uniform because it would just roll right off the pleather and could be dried easily. Though he wondered if his hair was going to become a problem. If the humidity was too bad it’d frizz and fall into his face…. He was clumsy enough without the added disadvantage. Maybe he should find a bobby pin… No way. It would be noticeable that he had messed up this morning. If he just brushed it immediately everything might turn out okay and no one could say anything.  
  
Decision made, he quickly parted his hair as best he could without a mirror and prayed it was passable. Not that he was religious. Ironically (living in a “Church” and all). But everything about his life seemed ironic. Always.  
  
Even though the almost sickly-sweet scent seemed to linger throughout the entire bathroom (and Ariga feared it would stick around for a long time...and maybe, heaven forbid, even in his clothes), he still managed to go through his routine without any problems. It was easy to fall back into comfortable familiarity, to let muscle memory take over. At least nothing about that could trip him up, despite his Messiah’s unintentional attempts to truly throw him off.  
  
He studied his reflection afterward, nodding a couple times in satisfaction, and rinsed the gel off his hands. Ariga took a deep breath, then released it, along with any tension he could expel, before going back into their room. He was better now. It was a rough morning, but with things going back to normal, he could take on the day and he wouldn’t let a new roommate mess with that. Even if said new roommate was stranger than most. Though that wasn’t Mamiya’s fault, just the circumstances.  
  
Ariga said nothing as he shoved on his boots and grabbed his own coat before heading for the door. But as he reached for the doorknob, he paused, then looked over his shoulder. “I’m going to breakfast. You don’t have to join me if you don’t want to.”  
  
Mamiya who had been fully dressed and ready for a little while now, had simply been waiting for Ariga to finish getting ready. It would have been rude to leave Ariga behind especially after apparently being the reason he’d been so off balance since waking. Though the former musician also thought in a darker corner of his mind that it was nice to see Ariga sometimes woke up on the wrong side of the bed too. He paid no mind to Ariga’s… not-exactly-an-invitation… or maybe unassuming actual invitation for lack of a better description and stood up to follow. Letting his actions speak his preference for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to make the chapters near the same length...  
> I have no idea what I'm doing..........


	3. Recoil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A normal day. 99 problems, but a bullet isn't one.

Morning classes proceeded as scheduled. The only visible change was the seating arrangement. It was understood that Messiah pairs sat together. Previously Mamiya sat behind Ariga, but now his seat was further forward and Shirasaki took his old seat. Mamiya was relieved that particular team was seated behind them since he didn’t have to look at them. Attending to the lesson was easy. Today’s was actually fairly engaging and he took plenty of notes.  
  
Afternoon firearms practice, however, was something Mamiya dreaded. He knew he’d have to drill whatever weapon he was assigned, but today the idea was particularly unpleasant. Handling weapons was bad enough without Ariga’s eyes on him. Somehow even before they were Messiah it felt like Ariga had been observing him during these specialized lessons, measuring him. Examining his every movement. Silently apprehending his mistakes. It made the hairs on his neck stand on end. Put him in an invisible spotlight.  
  
The pressure had admittedly gotten to him some days. He’d find himself tense or trembling on the verge of whipping around and glaring back at Ariga. Maybe directly ask him why or what his problem was, but that would have been a whole confusing kettle of fish bordering on bending Church rules. So he chose to do what he generally did when uncertain. Mamiya ignored it. Tried to pretend he didn’t notice. Waited for his quiet personality to blend him into the background again, too uninteresting for Ariga’s notice. More recently his act of obliviousness almost lead to Mamiya being the one to forget _Ariga’s_ presence in the room during these times and his concentration had improved. Or maybe he had just grown accustomed to it. Who knew?  
  
Soon he would be confronted with this situation again, and the tables had turned. They were partners now. They’d likely end up doing teamwork exercises considering how much the Church seemed to enjoy putting mental pressure on their cadets right away. The Church might want to press the new teams to readjust immediately. What if he didn’t do well? The early awakening was starting to drag Mamiya down. He didn’t feel like he had rested much at all.  
  
Naturally, Mamiya’s fears would come to fruition a few hours later at a smaller shooting range. Now that they were permanent Messiah, the Church _did_ want them to learn how to interact with each other as effectively, and as quickly, as possible. Which made sense, of course. Don’t waste time building trust with others when there was only one person who mattered now. Ariga saw no problem with this.  
  
...Or at least that’s what he wanted to believe.  
  
Mamiya may have been nervous, but Ariga was conflicted. As he held the handgun in his hands today - the metal was a natural weight, one he had held many times before - he silently watched his Messiah with a gun of his own. Shirasaki and Yuuri were off on their own nearby and Kaidou and Mitsumi held off after giving their own little rundown of gun safety and tips and the like. But Ariga knew they would jump in if needed to explain something or adjust posture.  
  
(Okay, so maybe Ariga was a little nervous, because Kaidou was a legend in Sakura and he would surely never make it to that level.)  
  
But Mamiya was something else entirely. Not just in general, but from Ariga’s viewpoint. He was lethal enough when he didn’t hold back and could hold his own when he stopped thinking so much. However, up until recently Ariga was sure he had only been a musician. Holding a gun, or any weapon, had to have been foreign to him still. That inexperience would get in Ariga’s way sooner or later. No matter how often they practiced, no matter how diligently, Mamiya would probably never catch up to Ariga. He didn’t think in such terms as a means to brag, even just to himself, but in honesty. Their road ahead would be difficult to travel.  
  
Not to mention the fact that Ariga didn’t want Mamiya to catch up to him, to end up being like him. He may have killed people by now, thanks to Sakura, but Mamiya wasn’t a killer. He may have seen some of the darker parts of the world and human nature, but Ariga was sure his partner still felt emotions earnestly.  
  
Yet...more than anything, Ariga didn’t want to see Mamiya get himself killed. And that meant he had to help in this endeavor. Joining Mamiya’s side, Ariga lowered his voice for their ears only. “Don’t forget the recoil this time.” He still could see that nearly-disastrous confrontation from their last session in his mind and he didn’t want there to be a repeat. “Remember what Kaidou-san said. Brace yourself for the kick, but keep your arms loose enough that you can absorb it.” Raising his eyes to his Messiah’s face, he waited for the affirmation that he had been heard and understood.  
  
Mamiya met Ariga’s sincere expression with his own. “Understood.” Satisfied, Ariga stepped back, giving Mamiya enough room to work. Watching as Mamiya adjusted his grip on the gun, finger positioned appropriately away from the trigger until he was ready to turn toward the target.  
  
The safety disengaged with a click. For the first time ever, the tones of his Messiah were somewhat calming. Setting Mamiya at ease. He didn’t realize Ariga had a side like this.  
  
He remembered just as vividly the first time he felt the recoil of a sniper rifle and how frightened he had been. Accidentally turning the weapon in Yuuri’s direction, resulting in their upperclassmen Kaido jumping in to push the gunpoint into the air and Yuuri screaming at him asking if Mamiya was trying to kill him. That day had given him nightmares and made him weary of guns, especially the first time handling a new one like the one today. This handgun was a .45 Caliber weapon. At Ariga’s reminder he recalled briefly being told the recoil on these could break a wrist if fired improperly. It should have made him more frightened. However this time, with Ariga’s words in his head, and sensing that presence nearby, Mamiya set his feet firmly into a steady position and aimed carefully. Nerves forgotten.  
  
He was braced, outstretched arms carefully loosened as advised. Locking out his arms would be a huge mistake. Mamiya slowed his breathing. Finally he was ready, the shot was lined up. Mamiya moved his finger over the trigger. Pulling in time to his exhale.  
  
The shot echoed down the range, the first empty bullet shell fell to the cement. There was a metallic clank at the other end of the room.  
  
Second shot. Breath in, out. Third. Fourth. His hands were numb. Fifth. Another careful breath. Exhale. With the sixth shot he emptied the magazine. Mamiya held steady as the gun cooled. A haze of smoke surrounded the immediate area.  
  
Something solid. He had definitely hit somewhere on the target. But he didn’t want to pick up the scope to look… didn’t want to know yet if he was about to disappoint Ariga. He knew he’d been improving lately, and had felt pretty steady. However, judging by the sound, at least one bullet probably missed the target entirely. Because that one sounded different. But being on the target and being in the right spot were not synonymous.  
  
So Mamiya re-locked the safety and placed the gun on the counter in front of him. Shaking the tingly feel of the recoil from his hands. Rubbing his hands and wrists. Nothing broken. Stretching the tension from his neck a bit. He might be stalling.  
  
He was absolutely stalling. He couldn’t lie to himself.  
  
Although he couldn’t see the results perfectly, Ariga had enough experience and practice that he could get a good enough impression of how Mamiya had done. But still, he waited for Mamiya to look before saying anything on the matter.  
  
Except Mamiya took his sweet time.  
  
Ariga closed his eyes for a few seconds, gathering up patience. He had to tell himself that while he was used to this, not everyone else was, and even though it felt silly to stall over this much, it was still a new experience.  
  
Mamiya decided to speak, though quietly. “Ariga… could you just look for me?” He turned slightly away, not ready to see the expression on his partner’s face. “I’d rather you look first.” This was his Messiah now and he wanted to be able to rely on him. Asking made him feel a little vulnerable now that the words were spoken but he didn’t regret it.  
  
That hadn’t been the answer he had hoped for, but nonetheless, with permission granted, Ariga took those few steps forward and picked up the scope. Studying the target for a few moments cemented his earlier guess. “Five out of six shots hit the target.” That was the bare minimum to share, really. He could stop there, but if he wanted Mamiya to improve, then he should share his other observations. “The grouping is wide. Try to focus on tightening that when you get more comfortable wielding a handgun.”  
  
Now that the verdict was out Mamiya reached for the scope to examine the results himself. He couldn’t really gauge Ariga’s opinion of his performance (which was what he had been most concerned about). At least he didn’t look particularly displeased. That was fine for now. The shots on the target really _were_ a bit farther apart than desired, more importantly they also seemed to veer a little to the left. This indicated to Mamiya that he was bracing harder with his right hand than his left and it was throwing his aim off.  
  
Placing the scope back, Mamiya picked up his weapon again. Considering his background and the fact that the sounds filling the gun range made him feel like jumping all over the place to cover his sensitive ears, Mamiya decided he didn’t feel like he had done too poorly. He stepped aside giving Ariga space to aim for the next target. He reloaded, taking care to keep the safety on and placing it back onto the long counter in preparation for his next turn. After worrying so much, practice wasn’t that terrible after all.


	4. Eliminating Threats

Tensions always ran high when missions started. This one was no exception, though perhaps it was a little worse since Kaidou and Mitsumi hadn’t come along this time. So it was just Ariga and Mamiya on point, with Shirasaki and Yuuri providing surveillance and support. Which was fine. They would all need to learn how to undertake missions on their own eventually anyway. This one was a simple information extraction. Supposedly simple anyway, these things always had a chance of going south.  
  
Assuming everything went smoothly, Ariga was to find the CEO of a company suspected of having ties with the Northern Alliance and kindly take the burden of such a job off of his hands. In the form of stealing any sort of flash drive or disc on which any questionable information might be hiding. Or he could just take an entire computer, whatever worked best. Mamiya, in the meantime, would cover his back. And that made Ariga a little nervous.  
  
It wasn’t as if Ariga didn’t trust his Messiah, but...well. He still kind of trusted himself more, but this mission should be easy enough that he wouldn’t have to worry about anything.  
  
As it turned out, they had been able to enter the building easily enough, even this late at night, and find the CEO’s office. After a quick confirmation from Yuuri that he had successfully hacked into the office’s security system and shut off the cameras inside - an easy job, of course, one Yuuri swore he could do in his sleep - Ariga turned to Mamiya. “Guard the door. This shouldn’t take long.” If the big guy in charge cooperated, that was. And if he didn’t…  
  
Well. Ariga had his ways of making people talk. He was also sure that Mamiya wouldn’t want to be privy to the details of such an act, so it would benefit the both of them for Ariga to do all the dirty work on his own. Even so, leaving Mamiya out in the hallway on his own worried Ariga a little bit. Would he be able to deal with whatever came his way? He raised the forged key card toward the door, but paused before actually swiping it to gain entrance. It wouldn’t hurt to be extra careful, right?  
  
“Don’t hesitate to eliminate any threats.”  
  
He swiped the key and disappeared into the office, smiling at the man behind the desk. Time to see how this would go.  
  
Mamiya gave a curt nod and swiftly positioned himself in a niche across from the door. From here he could see down both directions of the hall and also be ready to cover Ariga’s back as he came back out the door if necessary. He better come back through that door in once piece, Mamiya thought to himself. He wondered momentarily if he should be on the other side of the door with Ariga, but he knew it would be bad if they were both inside and the man called back up to trap them both in there like rats. So wait he did. Gently he tucked his hair behind his ears. It wasn’t that he was using his specially modified violin-gun right now (it was a little bulky and would stand out in this setting), but he trusted his ears more than his eyes to perceive immediate threats.  
  
It’s been about ten minutes. The com line is silent, but Mamiya is still certain Ariga is fine based on the muffled noises from the other side of the door. He tried not to wince as his imagination filled in details for him and focused on the surrounding area.  
  
Five more minutes. Ariga’s almost done right? Anytime now. Anytime. Come on. Something felt wrong. Mamiya was getting anxious. He couldn’t see anything though… that was good.  
  
Wait. What was that?  
  
Tap. Tap. Someone was coming. Tap. Tap. Had the man managed to call for help? Tap. Tap.  
  
Mamiya took a quiet breath and adjusted himself to better see the direction the person was approaching from. The unwanted presence turned the corner and came into view. The man looked like some civilian office worker who had stayed late to finish up paperwork. Even holding a stack of paper in his hands. Mamiya wondered if he shrunk back far enough into his corner he could let the man pass without being noticed. So long as Ariga didn’t open the door and the man wasn’t going in… If Ariga opened it now they’d certainly have to deal with this, but Mamiya couldn’t verbally tip Ariga off not to come out at this point without revealing himself. Hoping for the best, he pressed himself as far back as he could go.  
  
Closer. Closer… The man stopped outside the office. No. That was the one thing Mamiya could not allow. He lifted his gun and clicked off the safety. At the small but distinct sound, papers flew through the air. The stranger must have known something was up. The gun suddenly pointing in Mamiya’s direction indicated this was no innocent worker. It could not be avoided. They were at point blank distance and it was one or the other. Mamiya was truly cornered. He could hear the coil of a spring as the enemy began to increase tension on his trigger, but Mamiya was faster. He wasn’t the best of the cadets, but he was trained for this.  
  
_Don’t hesitate to eliminate any threats._  
  
Mamiya shot.  
  
The man in the business suit dropped to the floor with a lifeless thud.  
  
Now that the adrenaline rush and the drilled instinct to fight was dying down, Mamiya stared at the body in horror. Rooted in place. It wasn’t as if this was the first person he had killed but… it still didn’t feel right. He hated it. He was alone and there was nothing here to distract him but the deadly quiet of empty halls. If death had a sound it was echoing back at him in an instant replay in his mind, over and over again. He didn’t want this.  
  
He should be letting Ariga know he was fine, Ariga definitely had to have heard the shot ring out. But Mamiya couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach. He took a few deep breaths to compose himself.

  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  


When Ariga had entered that office, the smaller man behind the desk had frozen, studying his face. Then hopped up out of his chair, as if trying to appear more threatening.  
  
(It was hard to be more threatening when Ariga was taller and more solid, but points for effort.)  
  
However, such behavior caused Ariga to wonder if they had missed a vital fact. Did this CEO only accept a select few into his office? How had they not looked into that? But, regardless, words had been spoken and when it finally seemed like the businessman would try calling for security, Ariga rounded on him, easily trapping him in a headlock. Just a little more pressure and he’d be able to silence him for long enough that he could search the place in peace.  
  
The other man’s hands grasped at Ariga’s arms, fingers searching desperately for any purchase. Then, just as quickly as the scuffle had started, the man fell limp in Ariga’s arms. That was fine. Less time spent on him meant more time to be used finding any information. He carefully deposited the man back in his chair, both of his hands falling into his lap, then rolled the chair out of the way. Now he could search in peace.  
  
Desk drawers were opened and carefully, but quickly, rummaged through. When he found a USB drive tucked away much more securely than anything else ought to be, Ariga plugged it into the computer and waited for what would inevitably reveal itself. He rested his hands on the desk, a finger tapping impatiently against the wood. This shouldn’t take long, but he still wanted to get out as soon as he could. A slight rustling of fabric behind him, however, caught his attention. The man in the chair was still out, but now one of his hands hung over the arm of the chair.  
  
...Shit.  
  
A gunshot rang out from the other side of the door and Ariga whipped his head toward the sound. Silence followed. He glanced back toward the CEO, his eyes searching the man’s clothing and taking in a small device clipped to the dark fabric of his jacket. Was that a panic button of some sort? How the hell had Ariga missed it? And if Yuuri had disabled the cameras in the office, then there was no way they could have seen the man press the button…  
  
Dammit.  
  
It was still silent on the other side of the door. Had something happened to Mamiya? Ariga tugged on his own suit jacket to bring the mic close to his mouth. “Mamiya, report.” But even as he waited, he returned his attention back to the computer and copied a couple documents onto the USB. No matter what had happened out in the hallway, the mission had to continue.  
  
After a moment Mamiya raised his own mic shakily. “There was just one. He’s down. Continue.”  
  
One moment felt like ten, but the second Mamiya’s voice reached Ariga’s ears, he let out a breath of relief. With some of his worry alleviated, Ariga focused more easily on the task at hand, though the longer he thought about it, the more he wondered why Shirasaki or Yuuri hadn’t noticed the man approaching the office. Was he not the help the CEO had called for?  
  
Mamiya steeled himself and grabbed the downed gunman by the shoulders. He dragged the body out of easy sight into another niche down the hall. A morbid decoration in comparison to the floral vase nearby.  
   
“There could be more. Keep your ears open.” He watched the progress bar on the computer screen nearly fill up. Almost there… “Find out what Shirasaki and Yuuri are doing instead of their job.”  
  
“Roger that.”


	5. Remorse

Hot steam flooded the bathroom as scalding water trailed down Mamiya’s back. There was nothing enjoyable or relaxing about this cleansing. Mamiya scrubbed everywhere as hard as he could as if hot water and soap could burn off the sin he had just committed. As if the sweet shampoo could rinse the crimson blood out of his mind’s eye and down the drain. It couldn’t change anything, he knew. But he couldn’t stop himself from pulling harder on his hair and scrunching his face up in frustration.  
  
He resented himself for being so affected by this. But he didn’t think he could ever become completely adjusted to this life. Did he even want to?  
  
Mamiya needed a break. Wanted to stop thinking for a little while. He knew what to do. Finishing his shower he toweled off his hair as quickly as possible, tousling it every direction without much care to his appearance. Clothes tossed on unceremoniously, he marched out of the still steamy bathroom straight toward his bed. The violin case lay against the wall invitingly and he grabbed it with ease.  
  
“I’ll be back later.” With that he headed out the door, leaving Ariga to his own devices. For what Mamiya was going to do he needed to find a quiet place where no one would be bothered or yell at him.  
  
Mamiya was usually quiet, but he had been even more so on the way back to the Church. That had been Ariga’s first tip-off to there being something wrong. The insistent need for the first shower was the confirmation. And the speed with which he grabbed his violin was just an obvious addition.  
  
He wanted to be alone and Ariga, under practically any other circumstances, would respect that. But the mission had shaken Mamiya. And Ariga had an idea as to why. He had no comforting words to offer, but he had experience and in this kind of job, that was probably more helpful in the long run. But he didn’t think Mamiya would react well to brutal honesty, not right now. He was too sensitive still. Ariga should just give him space.  
  
And yet the idea of letting Mamiya out of his sight didn’t sit right with him. They were Messiah and Messiah were supposed to look after each other. It was his responsibility to make sure Mamiya could withstand whatever was thrown his way. That was the most important thing. Personal happiness always came second. But as the door shut behind Mamiya, Ariga remained seated on his bed. He could imagine that rare, little smile gracing Mamiya’s lips as notes sang out from the instrument, offering some semblance of peace. Wasn’t that what Ariga wanted to preserve? That one outlet for the other, that escape that could be kept separate from their life of espionage.  
  
He wanted to see that smile. He wanted to hear that music. It was a terrible idea, entertaining the thought of watching his Messiah; torturing himself with a personal weakness.  
  
Pushing himself from the bed, he opened the door and caught the lingering sweet scent of Mamiya’s shampoo in the hallway. He followed it as best as he could, not bothering to be stealthy. Mamiya would be able to hear him anyway.

  


* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  


Exiting the stairwell, Mamiya opened the door to the roof of the church. He had discovered this place a while ago and no one ever bothered him when he came here. It was a clear night and there weren’t any people around. Just stars glittering down at him around a crescent moon. It wasn’t enough light to see music by, or even the instrument itself. But he was a professional. He didn’t need light. He knew every inch of this precious object more intimately than he knew himself. Even if he didn’t have _every_ song memorized that he might want to play, he could play most things by ear and knew exactly where to place his hand.  
  
Opening the case on a bench someone had placed up here, he pulled out his bow. He twisted the end until the tension was exactly as he liked it. Gave it a once over with rosin for good measure, and picked up the violin. Finally placing it in the location it belonged. On his shoulder. One with his body. An extension of his soul. That is what music has always been. The only place where everything is exactly as it seemed. Every sound rang true. There were no lies or deception here, just his heart speaking its troubles and tribulation, or his joy and delights. Though he wasn’t sure when the last time he played out of ‘joy’ was. But he still needed this in his life, and no one was going to take it away from him.  
  
Mamiya wished he could still say this hurt no one, but deep down he knew the inside of this violin has changed, just like he must be changing. Becoming a weapon. He closed his eyes and placed his bow on the string. It was time. Time to let it all flow out. He would not cry over something like this, but he would mourn the loss of another soul even if it belonged to a terrible person. He would let his pain fill the air for precious moments as he drew the bow down the strings carefully tuned just this morning.  
  
Tonight the ‘Ashokan Farewell’ filled the silence. Mamiya was fond of this piece. The hauntingly sad folk song suited his emotions. Gently he swayed with the music, it wasn’t necessary but the movement felt somewhat relieving. A light breeze swept by, shifting Mamiya’s damp hair slightly and better yet cooling him down as if the world were trying to offer him silent comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2kZASM8OX7s  
> The Ashokan Farewell, go ahead and listen while you read the next chapter.  
> It's timed pretty well.


	6. Guilty Pleasures

Ariga honestly had no idea where Mamiya would run off to. He had never asked before where any of the good hiding spots were. He wouldn’t expect an answer anyway. It would be stupid to give away that sort of information, even to an ally. But this was a modified church, not a theatre or arts building, so the options were more limited. And if Mamiya wanted to be alone, Ariga could rule out someplace inside.  
  
He could have left completely, gone to a nearby park, posed as a street performer begging for cash, if he had to. But that didn’t seem private enough. He could still be easily found like that. So perhaps, then…  
  
Ariga hadn’t explored the Church, exactly, but he had spent enough time mentally mapping the layout, in case of an attack or any other emergency. He had only been to the roof once - where he decided it wasn’t quite high enough for any good sniping points, unless the enemy were right at their door - so he remembered how to get there. As he climbed the stairs to the entrance, he heard the faint sounds of music from the other side.  
  
Funny, how twice in one day a door had separated the two of them.  
  
Ariga reached the top step, but didn’t dare open the door just yet. But if he leaned against it and stood still, barely breathing, he could hear that violin a little more clearly. The tune Mamiya had chosen surprised him. It was almost cheerful. Not exactly, but more than what he had expected. Still, he waited and listened and closed his eyes, trying to imagine Mamiya’s face or how his fingers pressed down on the right strings at the right time or how his arm moved smoothly as he ran the bow over the instrument.  
  
He couldn’t see any of these things, but he could feel Mamiya through the music. Everything was honest and real, enriching each note with something heavy, so that even though Ariga heard it all with his ears, he still felt it like a punch to his chest.  
  
(Could music be a weapon?)  
  
He shouldn’t have been there, not when Mamiya had put so much of himself out in the open like that, but Ariga’s presence was probably already known, so when the song ended and the last note faded into nothingness, he slowly opened the door.  
  
Mamiya still held the violin on his shoulder, bow raised into the air until the very last vibration of the last note disappeared into the night. This is how he was trained from a young age. Even Ariga walking onto the roof could not interrupt the muscle memory of years. Finally when he himself deemed the song over, Mamiya lowered the bow and looked up at his unexpected audience.  
  
Why was he here? Mamiya couldn’t imagine he was intending to comfort him. He looked on wearily as Ariga approached. Maybe he just wanted to listen to violin music? ...No. The idea was too unbelievable. Well, he supposed he was about to find out.  
  
The darkness made it hard to see, but there was enough light from the city itself that Ariga could walk around without tripping on everything, he hoped. Which also meant he could see Mamiya watching him. And though he said nothing, the question was clear between them.  
  
_Why are you here?_  
  
But Ariga had no good answer for that, at least none he would utter out loud. So he walked past Mamiya and crossed his arms, looking up at the sky, as if idle stargazing had been his intent. “The air’s better out here.” Only slightly true. The rooms could get stuffy, yes, but the city wasn’t exactly environmentally flawless. Not that any of that had anything to do with Ariga’s presence on the roof in the first place.  
  
He fell silent for a moment, then spoke up again. “You did well today.”  
  
“I just followed protocol. It was nothing special...” Though he said that, Ariga’s words filled him with a strange feeling that was hard to identify. Pride maybe? Happiness? What he had done wasn’t something to be happy about at all but… Ariga complimenting him. Mamiya was certain Ariga didn’t do that kind of thing every day and certainly not if he didn’t mean it. And even though it was probably rude to accept compliments, especially the first time they were spoken… still.. He chose to be direct. “but thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”  
  
He held his bow up a little, looking at it. Wondering if he should play more even though Ariga was here or if Ariga would dislike it. But Ariga had seen him leave with the violin so he had to have known what Mamiya was doing when he chose to come. That thought in mind he placed the bow back on the strings and began to play a new song. A modern song he’d heard somewhere. He’d never even glanced at sheet music for it. An American song. Something called ‘Radioactive’.  
  
Mamiya liked all kinds of music from many different places. He felt that music could overcome language barriers more quickly than anything else. The sound simply taps into the inner well of emotions inside any listener. Allowing listener and musician alike to connect on a different level, one can just feel what the other does.  
  
_That means a lot, coming from you._  
  
The words nearly made Ariga laugh, though for all the wrong reasons. He managed to hold it in, however, and only allowed his lips to quirk up slightly. Mamiya had no idea he was thanking the man who very nearly killed him. Then again, it was also hard for Ariga not to laugh at the fact they had been paired up despite their strange history. This was what he got for not wanting to kill one man that day. Now he had to make good on that decision, it seemed.  
  
His hands tightened against his arms when Mamiya started a new song, but he didn’t leave or even move from where he stood. He just listened, letting his eyes fall shut as the music danced around him. Ariga didn’t recognize this song - he hadn’t recognized any that he’d heard Mamiya play - but he started to wonder if that mattered so much. Mamiya didn’t speak often, at least not in words, but he made music better than anyone Ariga knew. No, Ariga didn’t keep up with pop culture all that much, so if anyone had named a band, he likely wouldn’t know much about them. But he found it hard to believe that anyone could be more genuine than Mamiya.  
  
He didn’t speak the language of music, either, but this song seemed to tickle his skin at some points; he could feel goosebumps under the sleeves of his shirt. It was as if it was trying to get inside him. Like Mamiya was.  
  
...This was how he communicated best. Not with words, but a different language entirely, one aimed at...at another person’s soul, if Ariga could even dare imagine such an abstract concept. He didn’t understand and yet it made sense.  
  
As he became more and more immersed in the song Mamiya began to tap out the beat with a foot, sometimes stomping with the downbeat. The way he used to when he was younger if he was hidden from the pressure of his parents and teachers. A guilty pleasure violinists weren’t supposed to have, or at least not show in professional settings. A small smile slowly began to appear on his face at this folly as he smoothly transitioned into other songs, simply playing as if there was nothing else in the world but this moment. He played as much or little of a song as he liked. Not all of the songs were polished with practice, the notes were produced into the rawest form under professional fingers, coaxing sound into the night. He didn’t hide any emotion he was feeling even though Ariga’s presence was not forgotten.  
  
Ariga felt the music transform more than heard it, he opened his eyes to look back toward Mamiya. And that’s when he saw it. That smile Mamiya kept only for himself and his music. It was almost intimate and Ariga nearly turned away as if he had just seen Mamiya naked, but at the same time he couldn’t move yet again, mesmerized.  
  
Was this who Mamiya truly was, when one stripped away the rest of the world and all of his worries? Was this who Mamiya had been, before the World Reforming? This musician, who had to adapt to a life so unlike his previous one, surely, whom Ariga was certain would always be a little too soft or a little too emotional no matter how hard he trained. This flawed, but perfect being in a world that doesn’t deserve such art.  
  
_You shouldn’t be here._  
  
Ariga felt his chest tighten, though the music wasn’t at fault, this time.  
  
Finally Mamiya ended his serenade, feeling the tension of the difficult day leave his body. He wiped off the violin before tucking it safely into it’s soft red-velvet bed. As he loosened the bow he noticed he had snapped through a few of the horsehairs and knew he’d have to trim them later, but for now he packed it safely away as well before looking up at his hard-to-read Messiah.  
  
“Ready to go in?”  
  
_Yes_ , Ariga nearly breathed out, desperate in that moment to be near Mamiya, but he held off, shaking his head slightly, though he offered a subdued smile. “The air’s good out here, tonight.” He would need it after what he had just witnessed, at least for a little while. “I’ll be down soon.”  
  
“Suit yourself…” Mamiya shrugged as he zipped the case up with finality. He carefully picked it up and made his way back to the room first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EF_jO19B24c  
> Radioactive, violin version. It's better than expected.


	7. Variables

Mamiya realized while searching the library for a new book to interest himself that he had yet to return Ariga’s poetry book. He had finished it a few days ago, so he really should give it back the next opportunity. Though he wished he had thought of that _before_ heading to the library so he could have asked Ariga for some suggestions. His Messiah seemed well read.  
  
Where was his Messiah anyway? It seemed like he should know, however, he didn’t keep constant tabs on the guy. Ariga had every right to his privacy. It can get overwhelming to be constantly in a person’s company. People need time to think and process things. It just so happened that what Mamiya was processing right now was that he had forgotten about the book. Either way he knew he’d see him tonight and it’s not like Mamiya was going anywhere with it. So he continued to browse shelves picking through the foreign affairs selection.  
  
Mamiya’s best skills weren’t in the fighting arts, and he knew this type of knowledge could become beneficial to him one day. It wouldn’t do to insult a political official accidentally while trying to learn things about their country. Spies needed to have a variety of skill sets and specializations anyway. The things that they were taught to do the same, like clockwork, were simply considered the basics. He’d started to realize this recently and it was an important thing. No two missions were exactly alike, there were millions of variables. The Church would prepare them as much as they could. As for the rest, each Sakura member had to figure that out on their own. So here he was, trying to become more adept and worldly.  
  
Of course as a well known musician, it is possible to end up in politics anyway or at least find yourself invited to foreign countries to perform and anything said artist does is judged and reflected back on their home country. So as a musician he may as well have also been considered an unofficial ambassador. This was the case his mother had been preparing him for ever since he was younger (or at least she had said that was why). She had told him when he became famous he’d want to talk to all his fans and make many friends. This is how he became fluent in both English and Russian. Really specific languages to be learning arbitrarily to “make friends”.  
  
He had loved his parents… but really. It seemed like they were preparing him for something else. Their smiles always seemed strained…… he shook his head. What was he thinking about at a time like this? Mamiya pulled a few books off the shelf and moved along.  
  
Walking sideways down the aisle he bumped into someone. “Oh, did you need something?”


	8. A Bizarre Experience

When Kuroko said he needed to work on Mamiya’s disguise for the next mission he conveniently left out all of the details. By the time Mamiya realized what was being done, Kuroko had already half-glued in an entire row of hair extensions and there was nothing to be done about it but let him finish or suffer the uglier consequences. He had heard things about what that glue could do to hair, and one of them was… this wouldn’t come out for weeks.  
  
Mamiya had tried to play nice (it’s impossible to say no to Kuroko) but this was the third dress now and he just couldn’t take it anymore. He'd have one outfit on and Kuroko would strap different tools and weapons all over his body, have Mamiya do various test motions to see if the blades were visible against the fabric. Then he'd take them all off and start all over again. Kuroko turned around for a split second and Mamiya bolted out the door.  
  
The clothes Mamiya wore were in complete disarray, a set of buttons mostly open in the front allowed a sleeve to droop over and reveal his shoulder. The skirts that most _certainly_ did not belong to him were hiked up and he carried his uniform coat tucked under his arm as he sprinted down the hallway toward his room. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him.  
  
Finally he was nearing safety!  
  
Mamiya practically threw the door to their shared room open (conveniently it had been left unlocked) and slammed it shut, locking it firmly behind himself - double and triple checking the deadbolt. He wasn’t exactly certain why they _had_ a deadbolt but it made him feel much safer right now from the wrath of Kuroko.  
  
Leaning back against the door he panted. Mamiya didn’t care a bit that his library books were nowhere to be seen. Also nowhere to be seen was Ariga. The room was empty. Mamiya sighed in relief and immediately began to work on shedding the ridiculous dress. Whomever thought it was a good idea to put so many buttons on this probably had a special place in hell.  
  
Having finished his shower just moments before the slamming of the door reached his ears, Ariga toweled off quickly (and inadequately), and wrapped the towel around his waist. Because while there was a high probability of Mamiya having returned from... wherever it was he had disappeared to, there was still a chance that someone else had stumbled in instead.  
  
...in hindsight, he probably should have locked the door.  
  
But there was nothing to it now except to face whatever threat was out there. Ariga opened the bathroom door quickly, letting it bang against the wall in some effort to take the other person by surprise. Except when his eyes settled on the mystery person, it was _Ariga_ who had to stifle some surprise. The face definitely belonged to Mamiya, but the hair... and the dress…?  
  
...Or should he consider it undress? Considering his Messiah swiftly approached the same state that he himself was in.  
  
“Uh…” Some water dripped off of Ariga’s bangs onto the bridge of his nose and he lifted a hand to wipe it away. “This is new.”  
  
Eyes wide, Mamiya scrambled at the nearest item he could use to cover up his bare flesh. Ironically, he ended up wrapping himself with the same dress about as eagerly as he had just tried to do away with it. Realizing what he was grabbing, he dropped the cloth and almost toppled over to scoop up his uniform from the floor instead. Freshly added flowing locks tumbled down in front of his skin as the unbuttoned dress fell away to the ground. Clumsily he yanked the coat up in front of his chest and hugged it modestly, red as a beet. “Uh.. it’s.. it’s…” He struggled to put his current issue into words, “The next missi...er.. how do I…? ah... KUROKO!!!” Mamiya finally voiced the last word with force as if this one word could explain everything.  
There was something oddly... endearing about seeing Mamiya flustered like this. Ariga felt somewhat protective, but not like usual. His chest ached a little, but not from any ailment he knew of. Was this... fondness?  
  
No. Surely not. He only felt his lips quirk upward because he had glimpsed those rather womanly undergarments before Mamiya managed to cover himself. And that was humorous enough because it wasn’t as if Ariga had never seen another man shirtless before. It wasn’t a big deal. Bra or no bra.  
  
Mamiya's heart was racing. Was Ariga laughing inside? He couldn’t place that expression. Even though he realized his back was left uncovered, the anticipation of some sort of reaction somewhat excited him… weird. He wasn’t some sort of exhibitionist… right?  
  
Water continued to drip down Ariga’s face as he leaned against the door-frame, brushing his stray bangs out of the way. “Yes. That does make more sense.” ‘Kuroko’ was usually a descriptive enough answer for a lot of the strange happenings in the Church. Although as Ariga studied Mamiya’s person, deep blush and all, he realized that the picture wasn’t quite perfect. At least it looked a little off to Ariga, not that he paid a lot of attention to what women did to be fashionable. But if Kuroko was involved, then he wouldn’t have half-assed this sort of thing. “So you ran away?”  
  
Mamiya only looked a little apologetic, “I sat for the hair! I didn’t know what I was in for… it's been hours. This is the third dress and he's not satisfied… I just couldn’t take it… I… was hoping you could… hide me…”  
  
He looked toward Ariga pleadingly. As if he were some abused puppy.  
  
“You know he’s going to look here first…” Ariga’s words trailed off as his Messiah gave him that look. Such big eyes... such desperate eyes…  
  
Ariga was not a weak person. No.  
  
“We have a deadbolt and snacks… you can’t leave me like this!”  
  
He was _not._  
  
Mamiya looked like he could burst into tears.  
  
Ariga bit down on his lip and tore his gaze away. This was too much.  
  
Seeng more convincing was needed, Mamiya closed the remaining distance between them and placed his forehead on Ariga’s chest. “Look. He burnt my ear… he didn’t even ask permission. Do we have a first aid kit?” Mamiya knew this was shameless… but he felt somewhat emboldened by the ridiculous situation. This was already out of Mamiya’s comfort zone, what was one more step? Ariga’s chest was warm and still damp on his forehead. He sighed involuntarily onto that surprisingly welcome comfort.  
  
Outside of a mission or their training exercises, the two of them had never been this close. Ariga himself rarely let _anyone_ get this close to him, and yet when Mamiya breached his personal space without any hesitation, Ariga couldn’t even retaliate. All he was really sure of was that his heart was going to beat right out of his rib cage and Mamiya could probably hear it in stereo. How embarrassing. But he couldn’t just ignore the fact that his ear was burnt, either.  
  
God.  
  
“Just... just this once.” He reached up to Mamiya’s shoulders and gently pushed him away so he could go back inside the bathroom to fetch the first aid kit. “You’re still going to have to answer to him before the mission and it will probably be a worse experience.” He pulled out the kit from under the sink and, leaning against the sink, found a packet of aloe vera. “Come here.”  
  
Mamiya followed his Messiah into the bathroom, standing in front of him. “I’ll go sometime tomorrow…” His uniform was still held in front of him, but he wasn’t still clinging onto it like it might disappear. Mamiya had really mostly forgotten it altogether, more surprised than anything that Ariga was being so… agreeable.  
  
Holding his breath so as not to break whatever spell this was, Mamiya reached up to sweep extra-long hair out of the way of his burnt ear and turned his neck to give Ariga room to work. The coat where his arm had been holding it slipped down a little, revealing more of his right side… but Mamiya was too busy focusing on Ariga to notice. Gauging him. Out of the corner of his eye of course… He didn’t want to be too obvious… Hell it was obvious. Why was he even trying? Had he even seen Ariga’s face this close before? He knew the man had moles… but they look way more defined up close. Ariga's hair was still loose…  
  
Ripping open the packet, Ariga squeezed aloe onto his fingers and reached up to dab some of it on Mamiya’s ear. It didn’t look like it was a bad burn, and definitely not worthy of such drama, but Ariga said nothing as he smoothed the gel out. He had never been the unfortunate guinea pig when it came to Kuroko and playing dress-up, but he could imagine the trauma.  
  
...No, that was dramatic, too. Mamiya was rubbing off on him.  
  
Mamiya shivered slightly as the coolness was spread against his ear. “Hey Ariga?”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Why don’t you ever leave your hair down like this?”  
  
Ariga’s hand stilled for a moment, then he retracted it, wiping the excess aloe onto his towel. It was a fair question and one he knew was asked in innocence, but he couldn’t just give an honest answer, even if Mamiya had done nothing wrong. Throughout his youth and his adolescence he had kept his hair like this, not caring either way about it. He always had more things to worry about than his own appearance. But after that day when he heard Mamiya play for the first time and he let him live, defying his orders; he wanted - needed - to leave his old life behind. It would always be with him, of course, sticking to him like his own shadow, but if he could do one thing different, even if it was a cosmetic change, then he would do it.  
  
But Mamiya didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to know any of that. “It gets in my eyes.”  
  
A flicker of sadness? Did Mamiya imagine it? The response was simple enough but it had taken him too long. However, if he wasn’t ready to tell, Mamiya wasn’t going to pry… He’d probably pushed his luck far enough already… but... “Well… Then I’m glad to be only one to see it.” Mamiya allowed his own hair to fall back down onto his chest, and instead gently brushed Ariga’s as far from his eyes as he could reach, combing it back with his fingers to where Ariga usually would place it. Mamiya’s expression was a soft one… He didn’t want to push Ariga onto the defensive somehow over an idle question. “Thank you.”  
  
He could tell that Mamiya didn’t believe his answer, which wasn’t a surprise, considering it was a badly-delivered lie, but he didn’t call Ariga out on it and that... that was nice. To not be expected to explain everything or share his life story just because they were partners now. It was also nice to feel those fingers in his hair, directing it in that familiar place. He nearly let his eyes fall closed at the sensation, but Mamiya’s gratitude got his attention more fully. “...For what?”  
  
“Humoring me.” Mamiya met Ariga’s eyes directly. His hand still rested in Ariga’s unexpectedly soft hair, holding his head steady as he combed the rest of the way through it once, before releasing his Messiah.  
  
With the absence of Mamiya’s hand in his hair, it slowly fell back into place, although even more tousled than it had been before, but Ariga didn’t really care. He would have to properly dry it and style it later anyway. What was more important was Mamiya’s answer, one he couldn’t help but find amusing. Breathing out a laugh, he looked away. “You didn’t give me much of a choice.” Who was the guy still wearing nothing but a towel here? “Who knew putting you in women’s underwear would make you this bold?”  
  
He looked back and quirked an eyebrow. “This doesn’t leave this room.”  
  
“You’re telling me? It better not.” Mamiya looked down at himself… oh.. not the best decision… his sweeping gaze passed over Ariga's towel. It was time to retreat. He backed up out of the bathroom to seek clothing. He felt decidedly warm even with the coolness of the room starting to get to him. There was some information that needed processing here. He couldn’t tell how Ariga felt about any of this but… Somehow Mamiya felt maybe they were a little closer… just a bit. Through a shared bizarre experience. Kuroko was a Bizarre Experience.  
  
It was strange. Despite not exactly liking having someone else be so close to him, Ariga felt a little...disappointed when Mamiya left the bathroom. Suddenly it seemed that the air around him grew colder and he became that much more aware of just how naked he actually was. But it wasn’t as if he wanted Mamiya there all the time. Of course he didn’t. He had no idea how to act with such a lack of personal space, so why did it feel so weird now?  
  
...Probably because he was still only wearing a towel. At least with Mamiya out of the way, he could properly dress himself and be a normal human being, or something like it. He pushed himself off of the sink and started to close the bathroom door, but then in a last stroke of daring Mamiya added, “How about we agree nothing that happens in this room leaves?“  
  
…Those words. Ariga froze in his actions, leveling his eyes toward Mamiya, trying to keep his gaze from dipping too low. (It was, admittedly, a trial.)  
  
Ariga shook his head slightly. “What are you getting at?”  
  
“I’m saying I don’t have a need to talk about our private matters with others. So you have nothing to worry about.” Mamiya sorted through his drawer for actual clothes.  
  
Ariga cocked his head to the side. He never suspected Mamiya of doing anything like that anyway, so why was he making a big deal out of it? Still unsure of what to say, he closed the bathroom door and got dressed. Except he continued to think about everything as he did. Mamiya’s words, his reliance on Ariga for refuge, the closeness they had shared....  
  
As he tugged a shirt on, he let his mind wander to the Sakura code. And to a very specific rule therein. Oh, God. There was no way. Right? They got along well enough, sure, or at least they didn’t want to kill each other, but their partnership hadn’t progressed nearly that far, had it? This had been the first time they really even casually touched each other. They never even used their given names in private.  
  
Now fully dressed - and with his hair still down in its natural, though messy, state - Ariga opened the door again (without letting it bang against the wall) and frowned. “You’re trying to seduce me.”  
  
By this point Mamiya had also had enough time to get acceptable clothes on.  
  
“What?” Mamiya was flustered to say the least. These were not words he’d ever expect to come out of Ariga’s mouth. The pleasant warmth he had carried in his chest was leaving. Replaced with… fear? More like anxiety. This was bad. He felt stuck as he stood there.  
  
Now the things that Mamiya felt had just brought them a little closer together threatened to rip a chasm between them instead… He didn’t know what to do. Ariga may be the only person Mamiya was ‘allowed’ to have a connection with, but that meant nothing. More than that - Ariga, the only person left in the world who mattered to him on any level, was dangerously close to rejecting him flat out. His life might be about to become hell.  
  
Even if he could switch, Mamiya didn’t want to start again with another partner. At this point; no one BUT Ariga would do. Yuuri had rejected him from the beginning, never wanting anything to do with him. To Mamiya the feeling had been mutual. But Ariga…  
  
Ariga had tried to reach out to him from the start even though it was clearly difficult for him to do so. Sure their communication needed work but… There were things he liked about Ariga. He was like a many sided gem; every time you turned it a new face would be revealed (just a little). Just enough to capture Mamiya’s attention and not let it go. Ariga had a different kind of kindness. One that he had to look for, but it was always there. So far.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued....


	9. The Fall

Was Ariga angry? Up until that point everything had seemed fine. For Ariga what did it mean to cross a line? Because he was pretty certain he just managed to cross one. Mamiya found himself at a loss for words.  
  
Okay, so maybe it hadn’t been fair of Ariga to come out swinging like that, especially with only a hunch as proof. He should have thought it over better before just spouting out something so ridiculous, but he was confused and Mamiya was confusing and the distinct lack of clothing earlier only made things worse. For someone who knew how to keep his cool, he was extremely bad at communication when it really mattered.  
  
But his eyes were still sharp and he noticed how Mamiya’s face fell. And it was his fault. Because he wanted an answer but he was too careless to simply ask. Sighing, he finally left the bathroom and laid down on his bed. As he looked up at the ceiling, he spoke again, but softer this time, apologetic. “Or I just have no idea what I’m talking about.”  
  
Mamiya was looking at his lap somewhat hopelessly as if it might give him something to say. Listening. Finally after a few minutes passed he spoke clearly and carefully. “The word ‘seduce’ implies someone ‘misleading’, ‘lying’; a dishonest temptation for fleeting amusement or someone’s own gain. I am not that type of person, and it hurts me that you would make such an assumption. Even if I did say something playful, I have no intent to harm you.” Mamiya took a deep breath to help himself find the courage he needed for this… Ariga seemed to need to know his intentions. It was just difficult. “I don’t want everything to be ruined because of something so selfish. I just… I want you to trust me, and to be able to trust you in turn. Is that so bad?”  
  
Then it was Ariga’s turn to listen, to really listen. And it was hard, because he had hurt Mamiya, Mamiya had said as much, and Ariga had no defense. But he probably deserved it. He probably deserved a lot of things. And the longer he lay there, listened, and thought over those words more deeply, Ariga wondered if he was the one who had really been doing the seducing. Perhaps not in the exact same way, but had he not been keeping parts of himself hidden from Mamiya the whole time? Had he not wanted to keep Mamiya close for his own selfish peace of mind?  
  
If Mamiya knew who Ariga truly was, would he still want to trust him?  
  
“...You’re right. You’re a better person than all that.” Mamiya should still never have been in Sakura. And every day that Ariga sees him improve as a spy, the more it hurts because he doesn’t want that goodness to be sullied. But what else can he do? He can either sit back and protect Mamiya from everything and thus end up doing everything on his own, or he can help him grow stronger at the expense of his innocence, but with better odds of survival.  
  
He really hated being this invested in Mamiya’s life.  
  
Ariga sat up, as if about to say something, but he hesitated. What could he say that wouldn’t be bad? But Mamiya wanted to trust him...and Ariga didn’t want to be dishonest…  
  
“But tell me. Could you entrust your life to a killer?”  
  
Mamiya looked up at Ariga, studying him. “You do realize I am also a killer at this point. Given the nature of our jobs, it would be difficult to trust each other _without_ being able to take a life… If it’s between you or a stranger, who do you think I’d want to protect? Likewise, if I were injured and incapable of continuing to fight, and there was an enemy, would you say it’d be unwise to trust you?”  
  
That...hadn’t been what Ariga had meant, but that was fine. Perhaps it just meant he wasn’t supposed to share that much about himself yet. A relief, really, as those days weren’t something he was fond of to begin with, and he still had no idea how he was ever going to explain his ties to Mamiya. Looking down at his hands, Ariga opened them, palms up, and studied the creases in his skin there. “I know as Messiah we are expected to trust each other--”  
  
Mamiya interrupted “I never trusted Yuuri, nor did I intend to. Whether or not he remained my partner.”  
  
Okay, _that_ had been unexpected. Ariga glanced up, his eyebrows raised. “Why?” Why was Yuuri not good enough while Ariga himself apparently was?  
  
Alright, Mamiya had some careful explaining to do now but somehow he had an idea where Ariga was about to go with that sentence and he couldn’t let him get there. He needed to emphasize the importance of what he was saying so he did not break eye contact, though he still spoke softly. “I’m not automatically going to trust someone because I’m told to, or because it’s expected. That wouldn’t be trust. It’d be blind faith or foolishness.” Mamiya took a breath, “Yuuri made it clear from the beginning that not only did he not want to work together, but he was unstable. Relying on him was never an option. Also, you can’t disrespect the core of a person and expect them to react positively to you but that’s another story.”  
  
Whatever that other story may be, Ariga wanted to hear it, though the thought of anyone disrespecting Mamiya caused that weird feeling in his chest to show up again. It was probably best that he not know all the details, at least for now. “I guess that’s fair. Yuuri doesn’t strike me as being easy to get along with, anyway.” How Shirasaki had done it, he didn’t know. “I can be the same way. That’s why it’s always been an advantage that I work better alone.”  
  
“Yuuri is irrational and gets distracted by emotions. You have a clear head, _especially_ in the field. You know where your priorities stand and how to go about things in an effective manner. However you are not flawless, you are human. I think you can recognize that there have been situations where it would have been more difficult without help… and in terms of being easy to get along with or not… well that kind of thing comes with time.” This was probably the first time since entering the church that Mamiya had spoken so much in one conversation, and needed so badly to communicate.  
  
While he was partnered with Yuuri, he just took the childlike crap because it wasn’t worth it to him to say anything or complain. He knew that wouldn’t change anything about the situation and he didn’t _want_ to have some sort of bond with such a naturally cruel person. Mamiya had done nothing offensive to Yuuri except _exist_ in his general vicinity.  
  
Mamiya could tell Ariga seemed to think he was unworthy of trust for some reason, or was it that Ariga just didn’t want to be burdened with Mamiya? No… Ariga was not like Yuuri. He did not treat Mamiya as if he were an intolerable presence… if anything - especially considering what had passed between them today - he treated Mamiya as if he were valued… or at least respected as a person. “Don’t liken yourself to Yuuri, you are completely different.”  
  
To hear Mamiya speak so much in one go, and for basically half of it to be positivity about Ariga, was a new experience. He felt nearly overwhelmed by it all and yet couldn’t help but want more, to hear such words from the person he considered more special than anyone else he knew. Because even if someone else had said the same things, they wouldn’t have the same lingering softness or pleasant weight of truth. If Mamiya said it, then it must be real, right?  
  
Ariga exhaled a laugh, reaching up to flatten his hair, despite it already having fallen flat. He was probably just thinking too hard about everything again. Logically he knew that Mamiya was just as human as he was, not some glorified saint, regardless of what his heart - his soul? - tried to tell him.  
  
Ariga spoke, albeit quietly. “Yuuri’s an idiot, isn’t he?” And if anyone else had been in Mamiya’s place, they probably wouldn’t have heard it, but Ariga knew better and said it anyway.  
  
Mamiya was uncertain what Ariga was implying. He doubted it was in reference to Yuuri’s actual work capabilities. What was it that made him an ‘idiot’ then? His decision that Mamiya was useless as a partner? If Mamiya wasn’t mistaken Ariga had also just stated he worked better alone… On a personal level he agreed that Yuuri was an idiot. But what was the significance here? Why was he laughing? “In reference to what?”  
  
Ariga had to be careful now, lest he give too much away, but he had brought this upon himself, so it wasn’t as if he could just shrug it off as nothing. But first, he pushed himself off the bed and took a couple steps until he stood in front of Mamiya, who watched incredulously as his Messiah reached forward to lift that hair out of the way of his burnt ear again. “As a judge of character.”  
  
Ariga’s fingers gently brushing past the side of his face, hair displaced… the slight chill of air on the still wet aloe… this combination caused a shiver to go through Mamiya’s body. Or maybe it had nothing to do with the aloe at all. _As a judge of character?_ Mamiya’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t sure why, but he wished Ariga would put both hands in his hair… desperately he tried not to blush.  
  
The skin was still red, as Ariga knew it would be; his minimal efforts from earlier wouldn’t have worked a miracle, but with calmer nerves he could actually get a better look at it. Hopefully the burn would heal up in time for the mission, or at least be something Mamiya could pass off as a simple hair-dressing accident. Women had those kinds of accidents, didn’t they? Kind of ironic that this injury had happened because of such a thing, though not in what he imagined as the traditional sense.  
  
Speaking of Kuroko… “I thought he would have come pounding on the door by now.”  
  
Lost in the unfamiliar (yet pleasant) sensation on the side of his head, Mamiya struggled to comprehend the meaning of Ariga’s words. Uttering a soft, “Oh…”  
  
Ariga narrowed his eyes at this delayed reaction, then watched in confusion as Mamiya, eyes fluttering shut, rose his own hand to rest over Ariga’s and leaned into that touch. “Maybe he’s scared of you.”  
  
It was reminiscent of earlier, how Mamiya had sought him out, had wanted to be near him in such physical terms. And that was still fine, because even though their personal spaces had been breached, even just this tiny bit, Ariga had initiated it this time. He had asked for this sort of reaction, basically, even though he didn’t quite understand it. If Mamiya wasn’t trying to seduce him, in any sense of the word, then what was he trying to do? Ariga could ask again, but then that would be a repeat of talking and broaching dangerous topics and he would still be left with uncertainties.  
  
It could have been trust. Mamiya knew how dangerous Ariga could be with his hands and yet he didn’t flinch at his touch just now. He practically embraced it. He had said he didn’t trust Yuuri, which meant this sort of thing never happened. Ariga shouldn’t have cared and yet...he felt happy that he was given the experience. His fingers twitched slightly in Mamiya’s hair, bumping against Mamiya’s fingers. “I...highly doubt he’s scared of me.”  
  
Eyes still closed he gave a small smile. “It would be convenient if he were.”  
  
Ariga couldn’t be too upset that he wasn’t the only one being cryptic at this point, but it was still confusing. “Convenient --”  
  
But he had barely gotten that single word out when Mamiya’s eyes snapped open, suddenly remembering something. “Oh! I forgot to return your book! I finished it.”  
  
Ariga stood still for a couple seconds, taking in the sudden mood shift. “That’s fine. There’s no rush.” But he didn’t know if he should still keep his hand in Mamiya’s hair, so he slowly started to retract it.  
  
Mamiya’s smile faded a little but he released the captive hand. He knew the moment would have to end at some point. “Some of the poems _are_ a little dark, but her words are vivid and some of them I might even dare to say are alluring or wise… Do you have a favorite?”  
  
As soon as his hand was free, Ariga felt colder, it seemed. It was like that first instant after taking a glove off when one had been wearing it for some time. A strange, out of place sensation. But Ariga tried to ignore it, instead shoving his hands into his pockets. “A favorite? Hm.” He cast his gaze to the side, thinking. It would be hard to pick a favorite when he hadn’t finished reading the collection of poems, but there had been one that stuck with him. “I wouldn’t necessarily call it my favorite, but…’After Auschwitz’, I think it was called.”  
  
“You know, there was one a little closer to the end that reminded me of you. It was called ‘Admonitions To A Special Person’. If you haven’t finished, it’s past your dog mark.” Mamiya reached over to his pillow and pulled the poetry book out from under it. “Here, read it.”  
  
Something that reminded Mamiya... of him? And with a title like that… Ariga didn’t know what to expect, whether he should be pleasantly surprised or presented with words that painted him as something hard and unlikable, which was probably how the rest of the world viewed him. But he pulled his hands from his pockets and reached for the book, saying nothing as he searched for the poem near the back. When he found it, his eyes flicked back to Mamiya’s face, as if gauging his response, though he had none to give yet. Whatever. He focused his attention on the words in front of him.  
  
Ariga would never consider himself a literary analyst of any sort. Some things jumped out at him from time to time when he read anything, but he was sure scholars or professors would be able to dig up the hidden meanings with much more ease than he ever could. He read for pleasure, or at least as an escape from the toils of his world, not to solve some mystery within the text. But with Mamiya’s suggestion at the front of his mind, he couldn’t help but see the words as more than just print on a page. If Mamiya had found something of Ariga here, then it was the least Ariga could do to look closer, as well.  
  
Words and meanings he may have casually glanced over on any other day were scrutinized, held inside and compared to Ariga’s own idea of himself, and yet when he thought he had mulled over them enough, he reached the last stanza and everything weighed heavily inside. It all hit at once and he had nothing to hide behind, just words on a page, deceptively innocent, and Mamiya had been right. It was all so much like him but there had been no way Mamiya could have known he felt anything like this.  
  
He felt exposed, even more than when he had been wrapped in nothing but a towel, and Ariga’s jaw clenched as he tried to keep some composure even while he felt Mamiya’s eyes take in every reaction. He couldn’t escape. There was nowhere to run, not even inside himself. Taking a breath, he shut the book and held it back out to Mamiya. “I see.”  
  
“You… don’t like it?” Mamiya looked disheartened. “I just thought… it seemed kind of wise and cautious… and you seem like that kind of person. You don’t jump into things without considering the consequences. I didn’t mean anything bad by it...”  
  
Shit, he hadn’t meant to hurt Mamiya’s feelings. Pulling the book back to himself, Ariga spoke quickly, trying to salvage the moment. “No, I didn’t say that. I know you didn’t mean anything bad by it. I just…” His hands wrapped around the book, holding it tightly, using it as a strange kind of anchor in this sea of emotions he didn’t quite understand. “It’s...difficult, to look at oneself through someone else’s eyes. Surreal. Especially when...what someone else sees isn’t…” _When what someone else sees isn’t colored by one’s own negative opinion._ He let out a nervous laugh. “It took me by surprise.” That was putting it lightly.  
  
“Oh…” Mamiya still seemed a little uncertain and looked down at his lap. Maybe it would be better to change the topic. He seemed to be treading on uncomfortable ground again. “Would you like some vegetable chips? I’ll share.”  
  
As relieving as it was to retreat from that part of the conversation, it still left Ariga off-balance. It seemed that this was all they did. If they touched on something personal or even the slightest bit tender, they would back off as soon as the walls threatened to come back up. And that was great for their defenses, but at the end, it got them nowhere. They earned only glimpses of each other’s true feelings and not enough to move forward from that point onward.  
  
It was easy to back away from revealing even minute details of himself, but chasing after Mamiya was exhausting. Stepping even closer, Ariga dropped the book onto the bed and reached out with both hands toward Mamiya’s head, but before he even touched a single hair, he froze. The day had proven on multiple occasions that even an innocent touch brought out unexplainable (at least to Ariga) reactions, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to go through it again. But with Mamiya right there in front of him, and yet still so far away, he swallowed and threaded his hands through all that hair. “What would it be like to spend just one minute in your head?”  
  
With Mamiya’s earlier wish somehow granted, his breathing became shallow. Especially as Ariga’s wrists rested over his hypersensitive ears… the warmth of those hands; Mamiya was way too weak to this. He fought the urge to relax into Ariga’s grasp. “I think you’d find it rather dizzying.”  
  
Ariga could argue that he was already dizzy, what with going back and forth, but such an observation would add nothing to this moment. And it was a moment of some significance, considering how Mamiya’s breathing changed. But it wasn’t just that. Now that he was here, Ariga didn’t want to let go. His fingers twitched, and then curled inward, tangling themselves more effectively in Mamiya’s hair. “How would you stop it, then?”  
  
“Hold on. I suppose…” Mamiya illustrated this by wrapping his hands around Ariga’s wrists. Though he tried to turn his head to the side to take off some of the intensity, he ended up pressing his cheek onto Ariga’s arm with a huff.  
  
That puff of air on the exposed skin of his arm sent a shiver throughout Ariga’s body and caused his own breath to hitch. What was going on? What the hell was he doing? Why did his fingers tighten their hold just slightly? “But what if that doesn’t work?”  
  
“Mmn… I guess… you could hold tighter?” Mamiya peeked up out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t exactly certain what they were referring to anymore, but those hands in his hair… That had no right to feel so amazing. Closing his eyes, he involuntarily rubbed his cheek on Ariga’s arm. “Or you could… just fall.”  
  
Ariga had had no idea where this was going, either, only that it felt good and natural. And also a little terrifying. To even entertain the thought of letting go of his control of a situation would normally cause Ariga to rethink his approach, but with Mamiya, things were different. He didn’t know if those last words were a sort of permission, but they _felt_ right. To fall with Mamiya…  
  
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the top of Mamiya’s head, and from this closeness he could still smell that familiar shampoo. Its sweetness no longer bothered Ariga. No... as he let his eyes fall closed, he realized he wanted to get lost in it. Ariga rested his knee on the bed beside Mamiya and leaned forward more heavily, using his size to his advantage, until the two of them finally, _finally_ fell.  
  
Long hair fanning back and coiling across the blanket underneath and around them, Mamiya allowed Ariga’s body weight to push him down. Now on his back, Mamiya let go of Ariga’s wrists and trailed his fingers up his Messiah’s bent arms, briefly giving Ariga’s upper arms a warm squeeze before reaching up to lock his hands behind the other man’s neck. Ariga was so close that Mamiya could hear his breath inches away and feel his heart beating against his own chest.  
  
Ariga… He didn’t know when Ariga had stopped being intimidating, and started being _more_. Just knew that every place Ariga touched seemed to send little electric currents through him. Was it just because he had thought this type of contact was completely impossible between them that it was so strong? Or was it because this was the side of Ariga that belonged to him alone? Usually gelled hair loose and becoming fluffier by the minute…  
  
Yes. Ariga’s weight on top of him felt… good. Mamiya just wanted to stay like this. For a while. As long as his Messiah allowed it. Reaching his linked arms farther down the other man’s back, Mamiya gently pulled Ariga closer to himself.  
  
Being in this situation, with nothing but his own intuition and Mamiya’s hands to guide him, set Ariga’s heart racing. It was exciting to feel new touches, intoxicating to smell that sweet shampoo so closely, but still so frightening to have no real idea of what to do or where to go next. It was strange, because if this had been a mission, Ariga would be able to improvise without batting an eye, but if he were to make one wrong move now, what would that mean for the two of them? Would he be able to keep their partnership intact and leave no casualties in his wake?  
  
It already felt like such a fragile thing…  
  
Mamiya pulling him closer brought him back to the task at hand and he exhaled before pulling one of his hands from Mamiya’s hair so he could brush it properly out of his face. As he did so he found Mamiya’s eyes locked on his own and all he could do was stare; wondering somewhere within himself if this was actually happening. Ariga, lying so close to his Messiah, to the man he had saved one day with no expectation of ever seeing again- let alone anything like this.  
  
He’d had orders that day to kill Mamiya, but he had defied them because he had seen goodness there. For one of the first times in his life he had done something because he wanted to, not because someone had told him to do it. And that decision had ultimately brought him here, to the Church, to being paired up with Mamiya of all the people in the world, to lying on this bed just inches away from his Messiah. He had no orders this time, but the freedom of choice was in his hands. All he had to do was _make_ a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/admonitions-to-a-special-person/

**Author's Note:**

> We began working on this story before Hagane came out. I was worried about what would happen to this Messiah pair I suddenly gained an affection for, and Rose is a wonderful person who decided to comfort me with lots of Ariga/Mamiya bonding.  
> We've had a lot of fun. Thank you Rose for dealing with my thirst.


End file.
